


every ship at sea deserves a harbor (don't I know it)

by brinnanza



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Episode 3x9: Christmas Joy, Episode Related, First Kiss, Friends to QPPs, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/pseuds/brinnanza
Summary: For a brief, uncharitable moment, Shawn considers swinging at Gus to get out of this conversation. It’ll do the job, piss Gus off enough to let him leave, and Shawn will just have to endure a few days of clipped responses and hurt looks. It’ll only delay this conversation though, and Shawn would really like to put the whole thing to bed. “Fine,” he says. “Fine. Look, it wasn’t aboutyou, okay? I happened to be in Santa Barbara, she was here, and you weren’t. That’s it. It didn’tmeananything Gus, come on.”
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	every ship at sea deserves a harbor (don't I know it)

**Author's Note:**

> what is UP my soul craved some good old fashioned argument-cum-love confession so here we are. the title is from the weepie's wild boy. This is meant to take place a few days after 3x9 Christmas Joy. I'm still on my "nontraditional relationships are good" bullshit so this is less friends to lovers and more friends who are basically queerplatonic partners already have an honest gd conversation about their feelings for once. I live a shawn/gus/jules life don't @ me

They’ve been holed up in the Psych office for most of the day, finishing up the paperwork from their last case (Gus) and waiting around for their next one to pop up on the police scanner (Shawn). Early evening is beginning to creep towards late evening when Gus says, with absolutely no preamble, “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you slept with my sister.”

Shawn should probably have known he hadn’t yet heard the last of it. Joy had left a few days ago, seen off at the airport by her parents and brother. They’d asked Shawn along, and Joy had made a particularly compelling bid by batting her eyelashes, but he’d begged off in favor of “important work for a new case.” That it ended up being napping on the Psych office couch until the phone rang was really besides the point; he’d already said his goodbyes to Joy, and anyway, he didn’t want to test his luck with the Gusters any more than he already had.

“Really?” Shawn says, arching an eyebrow at Gus. “Given your reaction, you can’t see why I didn’t tell you?”

Gus just scowls at him. “You know what I mean, Shawn.”

And Shawn does. Because what was he supposed to say? _Sorry I slept with your sister; I’d have preferred it be you but you were off at college and also straight_. Yeah, right. Shawn’s never been particularly shy about his proclivities, but Gus isn’t like him, and anyway, that particular confession is the one surefire way Shawn knows he can torpedo an otherwise unshakable relationship.

He doesn’t regret it really, sleeping with Joy. She’s hot, and she’s a fantastic kisser, and she’s fussy in a way that is both similar to and nothing like Gus, but it hadn’t meant anything. And sure, Gus’s protectiveness over Joy is no secret, wasn’t even then, but it’s not like he’d gone out of his way to betray Gus personally.

Or… or maybe he had, sort of. The moment his lips touched Joy’s, he’d known how Gus would react if he knew. And that hadn’t stopped him. He’d known it would hurt Gus, and he did it anyway, because some part of him, the part that resented Gus for going off to college and leaving him behind, _wanted_ to hurt Gus.

It’s stupid and it’s selfish, Shawn knows. He’d stayed away from Santa Barbara for a while after that, even when he’d heard Gus was back home, but he never could quite cut the final cord. Couldn’t help thinking of Gus, sending him stupid postcards from wherever he ended up. Couldn’t let go of his one, single tether.

Shawn blows out a breath and shoves a hand through his hair. It messes up his carefully arranged coif, but there’s something soothing in the motion. He inhales, slowly, and then decides he can risk a little sincerity. He can always blame it on the hour, on boredom, on a passing flight of madness. “I’m sorry, man.”

Gus makes a noncommittal sound, not bothering to look up from his laptop. “I forgive you. You still should have told me though. All the women in Santa Barbara, and you pick my sister? Come on, son.” He’s not mad; Shawn can hear that in his voice, but Gus probably won’t be letting it go any time soon. “What, you miss me that badly?”

Shawn forces his laugh just a beat too late, and Gus’s head snaps up. “Wait, really?”

Shawn pastes on a smile, his most charming _trust me; you know you want to_ smile that Gus is always swayed by. He can still salvage this conversation, can still walk it back with a joke and a grin. Gus will stake out mobsters and chase gunmen for that smile; a little conversational redirect should be no problem.

“Like anyone could stand in for that perfect melon,” he says. His tone doesn’t quite hit the mark, but he says stuff like this to Gus all the time. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

This is the point where Gus is supposed to scowl at him, brush off his casual flirting. Instead, Gus frowns, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “No, hang on. Seriously? But we weren’t - you never -”

“It wasn’t about you, Gus,” Shawn lies, and he doesn’t even feel bad about it. He lies to Gus all the time, about everything, about big stuff and nothing. Gus never minds, not really, because most of the time he knows it’s for his own good.

“Don’t lie to me Shawn,” Gus says, and his voice is unexpectedly soft. “Not about this.”

“I’m not, man!”

Gus studies him for a long moment. Eventually, he drops his gaze back down to his computer screen, and Shawn lets out a breath in relief. There’s a long moment of silence, and then Gus says, “I was always gonna come back, Shawn.”

Shawn huffs, and clearly the hour or the boredom or a passing flight of madness has a hold on him, because instead of getting up and going home like he ought to, he says, voice heavy with skepticism, “Yeah. Sure.”

Gus inhales slowly, and then closes his laptop and sets it aside. He looks up at Shawn, and the fond exasperation that’s usually found in his expression is just a bit less fond. ”It was just college,” he says. “You could have come with me if you’d just given a damn. I know you play it up, but you’re not stupid, Shawn. I know you’re not.”

Shawn has to swallow a bitter laugh. “I really, really couldn’t have, Gus.”

“Shawn-”

“It’s getting late,” Shawn interrupts. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gets up from his desk, makes for the door, but Gus sprints around him and gets in the way. He spreads his arms, one hand on either side of the little hall off the main office. “No, I wanna talk about this,” he says, determination flashing in his eyes. “You slept with my sister and I had to hear it from _her._ I deserve an explanation at the very least.”

For a brief, uncharitable moment, Shawn considers swinging at Gus to get out of this conversation. It’ll do the job, piss Gus off enough to let him leave, and Shawn will just have to endure a few days of clipped responses and hurt looks. It’ll only delay this conversation though, and Shawn would really like to put the whole thing to bed. “Fine,” he says. “Fine. Look, it wasn’t about _you_ , okay? I happened to be in Santa Barbara, she was here, and you weren’t. That’s it. It didn’t _mean_ anything Gus, come on.”

“What, so if I’d been there you wouldn’t have slept with her?” Shawn doesn’t answer, just glares down at his feet. He still doesn’t regret Joy, but things would be a lot easier if she hadn’t gotten caught up in the Guster Christmas Tell All. “I wasn’t in Witness Protection, Shawn” Gus continues. “You knew exactly where I was. You could have come to visit.”

“What, and mess up your perfect college experience?” Shawn snaps. He still doesn’t want to talk about this, _can’t_ talk about this, but the words keep spilling from his mouth, unbidden. “You were - you had a good thing going. You didn’t need me swanning in and causing trouble.”

“I did though,” Gus says, and apparently this is an argument now. “I _did_ need you. All I had were postcards and memories, and that wasn’t enough.”

Shawn just shrugs. It’s not the same for Gus, never has been. “You were fine. You had people. You got _married_ for Christ’s sake.”

“Why the hell do you think I married Mira, Shawn?”

“Because you’re exclusively attracted to crazy women, and you’re a crap judge of character?”

“I am not -” Gus stops, lets out a sigh. “Look. You’re the one that left. And I don’t blame you for that. I know it was hard for you, after your parents’ divorce. But you knew where I was. You _always_ knew where I was.”

“Physically,” Shawn mutters darkly before he can think better of it.

Gus sucks his teeth loudly. “Seriously? What did I _ever_ do that made you think - I tried to write back, you know. I was lucky if I knew where you were a month ago; by the time anything arrived, you were long gone.”

Shawn shrugs. “Lots to see.”

“I called your father,” Gus says, and Shawn winces. “More than once. He never had any idea where you were or where you’d been or where you were going next.”

“That was kind of the idea, Gus.”

Gus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look. The point is, you could have asked. You could have come.”

And apparently it’s the night for honesty, because Shawn says, “I wanted to.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

_Because I was scared_ , Shawn doesn’t say. In the wake of the divorce, his father arresting him and shattering the last of any goodwill that remained between them, he’d been lost and angry and broken, lashing out at whatever was closest. So he’d run. And Gus was tied up in so many of those things, intrinsically - he’d seen the worst of Shawn, and that made him complicit, just another thing to run from. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah you do,” Gus says. “You’re just afraid I won’t like the answer.”

Shawn gives a wry smile. Gus is too smart for his own good. He knows Shawn too well, after all these years, can read his face as well as his own. Shawn can lie to him about everything under the sun, but not this. Not ever about this. “You won’t.”

“Try me.”

Shawn shakes his head. He’ll run after murderers, mouth off to men with guns, but he’s a coward, really. At least about anything that matters.

“Shawn.” Shawn looks up, and Gus meets his eyes evenly. There’s no trace of fear there, no doubt. Gus is scared of practically everything, all the time, will run screaming at the slightest indication of danger, but he’s not running now.

Shawn lets out a long, slow breath and drops his eyes to the floor. The hour, the boredom, a passing flight of madness. “I… I loved you, man,” he says. “And not in a best friends with girlfriends sorta way.”

He braces for impact, for Gus to hit him or yell or stomp away. That would be preferable in some ways to the pity he knows he will see on Gus’s face when he looks up. The discomfort hidden beneath a nervous laugh.

But Gus just says,“Is that supposed to scare me?”

Shawn almost laughs.“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” Gus says, and Shawn’s head jerks up in surprise. “You absolutely terrify me, Shawn, and I’m scared like 98% of the time we’re together, but I’m scared you’ll get me shot or strangled or that you’ll get in a horrific motorcycle accident and the hospital won’t let me see you because you’re not technically family. I’m scared you’ll run off to Bolivia or Boston or wherever, and I’ll never hear from you again.”

“Gus…” Shawn says, and his voice is barely audible to his own ears, a raspy, barely-there scratch of sound. He won’t let himself hope, not yet. He’d spent enough of his teenage years hoping and pining, but Gus never gave the slightest indication he liked anyone other than women. Crazy women, usually, but women. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Gus says, “that maybe you weren’t the only one.”

Shawn shakes his head. “No, don’t - it’s not the same. I know it’s not the same. You never even - I would know, okay? I of all people would know.”

“You do know you’re not actually psychic, right?”

“You’ve _never_ flirted with me!” Shawn says like it’s an accusation. “You never - I joke about it all the time, and you never play along.”

Gus crosses his arms. “Maybe because it’s not a joke to me, Shawn.” He blows out a breath. “I mean, you flirt with everyone. You flirt with the 80-year-old woman in front of us in line at Del Taco. You flirt with _Lassiter_. How the hell was I supposed to know when you meant it?”

“I always mean it,” Shawn says, but Gus is right and he knows it. “But come on, Gus, if you liked guys, I think I would know.”

“I don’t like _guys_ , Shawn, I like _you_. God knows why.” Gus’s shoulders slump, all the fight draining out of him. He moves around Shawn and drops down onto the couch, head in his hands with his elbows balanced on his knees. “Look, I don’t really know how to explain it, okay? The only part I know for sure is that I love you. And not in a best friends with girlfriends sort of way.”

Shawn stands in the hallway for a long moment, Gus’s words looping in his mind. It can’t possibly mean what it sounds like. It can’t. Shawn isn’t that lucky.

Eventually, he moves to sit down beside Gus. “What does that even mean?” he says.

Gus shrugs, turns his head to give Shawn a wry smile. “It means I claim you on my taxes,” he says. “It means… It means you make me do crazy, stupid, amazing things I would never do on my own. It means I always want to know where you are, and if you wind up in the hospital, I’d better be the first person they call.”

“But we already have that,” Shawn says. “Well, the hospital usually calls my dad first because he pays the bill, but the other stuff… I don’t understand what’s different.”

“It’s not,” Gus says. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Gus lets out a long sigh and sits up, turning to face Shawn. “It’s never been different for me, okay? All this time… I’m just saying, you could have come, Shawn.”

“I’m here now,” Shawn mutters a bit petulantly. He looks at Gus, eyes flicking down to his mouth and then back up. “What about - um,” he says, stumbling over the words. It’s like he’s 12 years old again, holding sweaty hands with Stacey Whitticker behind the 7-11. His tongue is too big for his mouth, and anything even approaching game disappears from his head. “Do you -”

Gus rolls his eyes and leans in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Shawn’s mouth. “Yeah,” he says once he’s pulled back. “I always have.”

There’s a distant, tinny buzz in Shawn’s ears, like a bullet’s just whizzed past, barely missing him. A hand drifts up to his mouth, fingertips brushing over his bottom lip, warm from the press of Gus’s against him. He’s had plenty of first kisses before - and second, and third, and so on - but this is… This is _Gus_. This is Gus, who’s seen the best of him and the worst, who follows him into stupid, dangerous, exhillerating situations time after time after time. “Gus…”

Gus’s hand covers Shawn’s on the couch between them. “I mean it, Shawn.”

It’s tempting. It’s everything Shawn has wanted since before he even knew he wanted it, but it’s also the one thing he can’t bear to screw up. “I’m not good at relationships, Gus; you know that. I’m not…”

“Reliable?” Gus fills in. “Punctual? Considerate? Mature? Responsible?” Shawn opens his mouth to protest that hey, that’s a bit much, but Gus just waves a hand. “I know all that already. We already have a lease together, and anyway, I’m not asking you to move in with me. I’m not asking you to stop flirting with Lassie and Jules or to stop trying to hook up with every waitress who brings us lunch.”

“Then what are you asking for?” Shawn says.

Gus smiles. “Just one thing,” he says, “but it’s important. Probably the most important.”

“Okay,” Shawn says, and at this moment he’d probably be willing to agree to almost anything. “What is it?”

“Do _not_ sleep with my sister, Shawn.”

Shawn laughs, all the tension evaporating at once. “Okay,” he says, squeezing Gus’s hand. “I think I can do that.”


End file.
